“I have not told thee half my wayward impulses,” Walda declared, presently. “When strangers have driven to the village I have caught glimpses of women who wore gay clothes, and I have coveted the gowns of exquisite color.” She hesitated for a moment, with something like embarrassment. “And, Stephen,” she added, “I like thy garb better than that of the men of Zanah. Thou hast a ring on thy finger that I think is pretty, and when thou takest from thy pocket thy gold watch I have a curiosity to look at it. This shows how easily I am tempted by earthly gauds.”
Everett could not repress a little laugh, but seeing how much in earnest she was, he said, quite solemnly:
“Walda, these are not sins. Your confessions show that you are a woman with a woman’s impulses. Even a prophetess cannot help being a little human.”
He took his watch from his pocket and placed it in her lap. Drawing from his finger a ring of beautifully wrought gold, he put it into her hand. Walda’s face crimsoned.
“Thou must not persuade me to put it on,” she half pleaded, as she looked at the ring; and then, as if to prevent herself from succumbing to temptation, she passed it back to Everett. The watch she examined carefully. “This will mark the seconds, the moments, and the hours of all thy life. It should remind one to make good account of his time.”
“It has marked some very pleasant moments since I came to Zanah,” said Everett, and his tones conveyed to Walda a dim impression that made her suddenly shy.
Some one knocked twice on the door, lifted the latch, and entered. It was Hans Peter, who carried in his hand a package of books, letters, and papers.
“These have I brought from the post-office,” said the simple one, his pale eyes wandering from Walda to Everett as they sat close together. It was plain, even to a fool, that their conversation had been of a sort interesting only to themselves.
“The elders ordered that thy mail be given into thy hands, and I have followed thee here that I might deliver the chronicles of the wicked world into thy keeping.”
Everett thanked the simple one, who made no move to leave the room. Hans Peter still stood playing with his queer cap and balancing himself first on one foot and then on the other.